‘Alice. Get me boots, I want me boots on now!’
I look at your steel capped work boots. I’ve given them short shrift in their hardworking life, which is not fair because they’ve earned us a penny or two.
I’ve shouted when you stomped through the house in them. You didn’t care tuppence for the trail of muck you left behind. Sometimes you walked on tiptoe with a ridiculous mocking look on your face, like an idiot, making like you were being careful. An elephant in Swan Lake.
I remember when you ran in to tell me that you’d had an accident.
‘Alice, I’ve run over the dog.’ Your gasping breathless voice was full of panic.
‘Is she dead?’ I asked.
‘Well get off my clean floor with them muddy boots then.’
I chuckle to myself now at the memory and then I hear you shout again.
‘Alice, where are me boots?’
I give them a quick wipe. You don’t need them now. I can’t understand why you’ve insisted on wearing them today, stuck in that bloody chair as you are.
‘You’ll die in these bloody boots you will.’ I say.
‘Aye Alice, I will that.’